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Mission PAW: Winds of the North Kingdom
Here's for celebrating 10,000 pages on the PAW Patrol Fanon Wiki! This is a huge milestone, well done everybody over the years! Mission PAW: Winds of the North Kingdom! The King of Wintervale fell very ill, and no science or medicine could save him. Ascending to the throne is the now parentless and incredibly introverted canine Prince, despite only being fifteen years old. The half-wolf revolutionaries known as the Crimson Scythe seize the opportunity to kidnap the prince and the three younger princesses. Word has spread of the PAW Patrol's success in Barkingburg, Wintervale's royal advisers call the PAW Patrol to defeat the radical, high-tech Crimson Scythe to rescue the timid prince and princesses. Everything is on the line as the PAW Patrol puts their Mission PAW gear to the test in order to save the icy kingdom of Wintervale! This episode takes place in the CenturiRealm Episode Rated PG-13: You Have Been Warned -------------------- Scene 1: Wintervale Royal Castle Wind chimes: the clanging of them… The sound of them… The resonance of these attenuated metal rods sang alone in the chill. In some folklore, the song of these chimes signaled the flowing of energy, or when a spirit left this world. The castle that stood high, equal to the towering coniferous trees, was shrouded in icicles, snow, and sleet. The windows were tinted an icy blue hue, and the bell tolls of death rang unnervingly for the King… The Karakachan Bear dog, dressed in a royal robe of ultramarine with black trousers and gowns underneath, lay on his final resting place. He could not be saved. The tumor in his brain had obstructed a part of his nervous system and disrupted a part of the upper spinal cord. He was doomed from diagnosis. The King lay on his soft bed in his royal chambers, surrounded by his trusted advisors, his three barely adolescent daughters and his fifteen-year-old son. The Prince, Heir to the Throne. The young prince was the same breed as his father, a Karakachan Bear Dog. His dark brown ears and tail were lowered in sorrow and soft tears rolled down past his freckles. He bawled without a single regard to the nearby journalists. They penned down everything they saw with unsettling scratches. The scratching was like nails on a blackboard to the prince. His hands and body shook and jerked as he held his father's large, nearly lifeless hand, his veins bulged against his thick coat of fur. “Meriadoc...” The old king muttered. The timid prince winced for a moment before sniffling hard. With a voice shattered like broken glass, Meriadoc muttered, “Y-yes, Father..?” The elderly king managed a smile. As the corners of his snout curled up slightly, the king replied, “Be brave, my son… Although it seemed I never truly believed in you as your mother did, but just know… I always loved you…” “Y-you tell me that now..?” the Prince cried anxiously, mustering up all the courage from his gut utter that sentence before continuing on to say, “I love you too, Father…” “Take care of your sisters, Merry…” The King’s chest swelled and tensed as he coughed and hacked like his lungs were going to collapse. The repulsive sound was guttural and dry. One last twinkle of consciousness shone from the king's glacial eyes as he forced a smile before that light slowly diminished and faded away into eternity. The last tendrils of life retreated while the hand fell cold and limp against the bed sheets. The prince's minuscule tears fell uncontrollably as he wept, turning into minute fragments of crystalline ice before shattering into negligible shards, invisible to the naked eye. The king's head advisor shook his head with great regret and remorse. His heart weighed with the might of a thousand worlds. His oldest friend lay deceased with his wailing children beside his corpse, coerced into peace. “Time of death…” He spoke with a depressive undertone. “Nine forty-seven in the morning. Come now, your Majesty… Coronation is at eleven…” The Doberman advisor placed his hand on the discontent prince's sinewy shoulder. However, Merry would have none of it. He rose up and made a silent exit, choking back his anguish until he was out if sight. The journalists’ eyes widened as they wrote what they witnessed. The three princesses followed their ‘heroic’ big brother. “Big Bro!” Delyth called. Alis was panting as the three young girls ran. “Wait up!” “Where are you going, big bro?” cried Saeth. Merry brushed them off. He didn't want anything to do with family at the moment. Persistently, the triplet of adorable pups followed. They followed him to the front steps of the castle, where Merry sat down with his head tucked between his legs, arms crossed over his head, and cried uncontrollably. The triplets backed up in fear as the brother they gazed upon yelled and screamed like a tortured soul. His cries were otherworldly and feral. Delyth, Alis, and Saeth wrapped their scrawny arms around their distraught paragon. He wasn't ready. The coronation hall was decorated lavishly in drapes of icy blue, white, and black. Turquoise gemstones lined the rows of pews, carved from dark spruce wood. The soon-to-be king slowly took the dreadful steps down the center aisle towards the white marble altar, laced in black and gold veins. There, the priest, shrouded in a white and purple gown, awaited the prince's arrival. Hundreds of canine citizens were about to bear witness to the crowning of a new King. Merry’s heart pounded unnervingly. He could see the dread in his sisters’ big, innocent eyes. The Prince had refused to wear any extravagant cloak, and instead wore his favorite black suit with icy veins. The very same that his mother tailored for him before she passed all those years ago. He was surprised that it still fit him. Royal advisers and members of Parliament, human and canine alike, gazed with tears in their eyes. They held their chins high to the hollow sky, attempting to maintain their composure. As Meriadoc knelt down on one knee at the altar, diamonds fell from his eyes… I don't deserve this… He thought in perturbation. He shook and fought the urge to shudder and jerk in anxiety. The turquoise crown never touched the prince's clouded head… Screams of terror and perplexity filled the hall as the stained glass windows shattered like the dreams of a maturing child. On lines as black as the night, streaking in with grips and hooks, tall, ferocious monsters wearing a white scythe against a crimson background flew in just as fast as the screams. In the turmoil, these beasts pulled out tasers, unsheathed swords and guns, and threw silver spheres that emitted thick gray gas. The lights of both the day and the hall abandoned the victims of the Crimson Scythe... “Delyth! Alis! Saeth!” hollered the terrified Prince as he fought through the smokescreen. “Come to me! Come to me!!” “Big Bro!!” hollered the voices of tiny angels. Their shrieks of hysterical perplexity drowned away against the clanging metals of combat in the hall... The Prince felt a hand on his shoulder… Then two, then three, then those hands turned to bodies as a sharp pain protruded his back… Meriadoc let out a disgruntled snarl as he fell to the floor… As he drifted into unconsciousness, he felt himself being lifted off the scarred carpet and over a muscular Wolfdog’s shoulder. “Get these royal nuisances to the rendezvous point, now!!” A feminine devil growled. “Sleep well, Princey… It’ll be your last…” Scene 2: Adventure Bay - Mr. Porter’s Restaurant (Scene Change: PAW Patrol Badge) Oblivious to the events transpiring in Wintervale, the town of Adventure Bay was perpetually typical. The bluebirds sung their melodies, the townspeople smiled, and the PAW Patrol kept a watchful eye over the entirety of the town. Mr. Porter, the town’s greatest cook and pie juggler, had quite a few customers to tend to one bright and cheery morning. Those customers being the pups of the PAW Patrol. Chase, Skye, Marshall, Zuma, Rocky, Rubble, Everest, Tracker, Centurion, Beryl, Steelbeam, Primavera, Frostbound, Tierra, Umbravivo, Arabella, Nicasia, Saracco, and Esme. They were enjoying a lovely brunch of waffles and crepes decorated in delicious red and blue fruits and confectionery sugar. Centurion preferred his culinary treats à la mode, as did Everest and Marshall. “Brain freeze!!” hollered Marshall, as he devoured his ice-cream waffle a bit too fast. He clutched his head and whimpered slightly as the other pups laughed at him. The Black-spotted Dalmatian shook his head, ears flopping about. “Not funny, you guys!” His Blue-spotted girlfriend, Arabella, tightly embraced his arm. “We're only playing around!” She exclaimed with a gorgeous smile that caused Marshall to blush in embarrassment. Chase and Skye sat beside each other at one of the clean metal tables, Chase still his gentleman-esque self, valuing Skye's happiness over his own. He wagged his tail rapidly as the Cockapoo nuzzled him briefly. Steelbeam and Primavera took turns feeding each other the strawberries. Steelbeam had gotten some whipped cream on his nose, so the Patterdale Terrier released a soft, puppy sneeze. Covering her mouth, Primavera giggled in an effervescent fashion. Ryder, the team's leader and only human of the team, wore a proud smile as he observed the pups he grew to love so much enjoying their time with each other. He bore absolute candor in believing that these pups would spend the rest of their lives together… Maybe some would marry… As the pups laughed and celebrated, Ryder’s electronic Pup Pad began to ring. He brushed it off and continued to converse with Rocky, Everest, and Frostbound about other variations of mutated genes, like the ones Frostbound has to give him his chilling flair. The Pup Pad continued to sound its unhindered, alarming tone. “Better pick that up, Ryder!” said the nearby Mr. Porter with a smile. “Could be something important!” Ryder smirked and rolled his eyes as the pups he was conversing with give him a nod of assurance. Ryder lifted himself up, fixed his silver and blue leather jacket, and displaced himself from the vivacious group. A faint “Ryder here…” was heard against the chatter of the morning. “So Chase…” prompted an interrogative Centurion, raising an eyebrow at the German Shepherd. “Tell us more about Mission PAW.” Chase smirked shortly and gave a nod. “Well…” He began hesitantly, a few miscellaneous beads of sweat dripped down his head “It was awesome!!” exclaimed an exultant Rubble. The English Bulldog rattled off action after action, causing the pups to divert their attention towards him and Esme. “There were high-tech gadgets, advanced vehicles, I had a drill that I could bust down walls with!” Umbravivo, the Lemon-spotted Dalmatian interrupted the interruption. “Thermal charges.” “And zip lines and night vision goggles and a whole adventure in Barkingburg…” He persisted without regard. The pups laughed and wore gaily and addled expressions. “I remember that I had to save Chase!” The pups laughed in unison as Chase rolled his eyes nonchalantly. Esme rested her head on her Bulldog boyfriend’s broad shoulder. “Yeah, it was the one time, sweetie…” Esme said with a soft smile. The Pitbull-Golden Retriever Mix then stole a quick kiss upon Rubble's cheek. Rocky whipped his head around with eyes widened. In extreme haste, the mutt exclaimed, “That's the pup that we fought! Sweetie!” The freckled blonde Husky, Nicasia, gently stroked her chin in contemplation. “I remember the files… Wasn't she the pup of the Princess?” “She was!” Saracco the brindle-coated Cursinu blurted out abruptly as he was sipping his lemonade. After being met with the silent judgment of a thousand eyes, he spoke more quietly and mature. “She had quite the careful and preconceived strategy… Full of finesse and veracity. She just made her own small mistake and the whole thing fell apart.” Before anyone else could utter a syllable to continue the conversation, a sense of urgency permeated the air as Ryder announced, “Pups! Get to the Air Patroller ASAP! We've got a mission!” That sense of urgency kick-started a flow of fervent and unbounded adrenaline. Within mere fractions of a second, the PAW Patrol cleared the area. Without leaving a single trace of their presence there other than the remains of baked treats and a lone Mr. Porter with his son Alex and their part-time employee who aids Alex in the kitchen. The Corgi girl rolled her iridescent eyes as she began to clean up. The only abnormality in the air were the remnants of smoke trails from the PAW Patrol’s ever-reliable vehicles. Scene 3: Air Patroller - Wintervale City Central Courtyard (Scene Change: Everest’s Badge) “Okay, so what's the 411 here, Wyder?” asked Zuma impatiently with his legs and arms crossed. He wore a serious face and an interrogative posture along his back. The Air Patroller’s engines soared with a low hum across the endless blue. The same sense of urgency filled the cabin as Ryder rotated in his chair to face the pups. Ryder gave a smirk to the water pup as he tapped his Pup Pad a few times. The large metal doors closed in the cabin, revealing the infrequent purple and white paw print that made the hairs on the pups’ necks stand on edge in sheer excitement and sent jolts of bliss through their hearts. Ryder needed to say nothing… “Mission PAW!” The pups shouted in exuberance. Teamwork is to the PAW Patrol like the moon is to a wolf. The very correlation between their souls, their essence… The pups themselves are their pack. Cohesion as a unit, a well-oiled machine, is their moon. Their barks are the cries and howls of the wolf. Every mission is a new moon under which to bask and howl. Raising himself onto his feet to present himself, Ryder adjusted his silver and blue jacket. He sported a crimson shirt with black jeans. He cleared his throat with a shrug, and spoke. “Alright, so we're heading to the Great North Kingdom called Ge-Amhvales, or Wintervale.” Ryder explained with a heavy heart. The tone in the back of his throat was low and disconsolate. All signs of grim news and melancholy moods. “However… The King recently died… Earlier today, in fact. Died of a tumor in the back of his head.” The pup’s enraptured faces soon turned long with grief. The enchanting presence that filled the air darkened and became crestfallen. The pups hung their heads down in condolence. “That's awful…” said Skye, mourning. “I feel terrible…” Steelbeam added dejectedly. Chase shook his head nonchalantly. “Nothing we can do.” The silence hung around like a bad dream that was wavering over their heads, unrelenting. The pups hung their heads down as the Air Patroller hit a violent turbulence, one that the pups shrugged off as if nothing happened. The Air Patroller landed on the frosted cobblestone, worn and dismal from the passage of time. Wintervale’s capital city was decorated in ornate icy crystals of various shapes. Evergreen trees were arranged in symmetrical columns and rows throughout the city. The citizens were quiet as they sheltered themselves in their furnace-heated homes, silently gazing and judging as the PAW Patrol as they exited their high-tech aircraft with thunderous steps. “Do you smell it?” asked Chase as his eyes arced across the stagnant city, nostrils flaring. “This place reeks of fear… You can feel it in your spine…” Rocky rolled his deep amber-hued eyes as he grasped Everest's delicate hand. Frostbound slipped his big Malamute hands into the pockets of his newly-trimmed dress pants as he gave a witty remark, “A cemetery is livelier than this place. Damn…” The pups’ intense feelings of commiseration wouldn’t hold them back... Out of the malignant dread that occupied the frozen castle, three tuxedo-clad officials stepped forward with the bright sunlight reflecting wondrously off of their clothing. The head adviser, a Doberman with cropped ears and a docked tail, stepped forward and shook hands with Ryder. Centurion’s ears perked as he gazed into the Doberman’s hollow lavender eyes. Something about them was haunting, as if he too were afraid… Centurion wasn’t alone in this sentiment. Primavera, Tracker, Umbravivo, Everest, and even Beryl in all her reticence took notice. This was the fear of someone learning undesirable information… Something that certain people aren’t supposed to hear... “Thank you for coming on such short notice, PAW Patrol.” The Doberman cleared his throat as he spoke. His voice was clean, composed and elegant. Glossy like silk, and cavernous like an abyss. “My name is Cedrych Aldertree, High Steward of Wintervale. I called you here because the Prince and his three younger sister have been kidnapped.” A unanimous gasp resonated throughout the PAW Patrol. By far their most dangerous and high-risk mission had just begun… With widened eyes that had commenced filling with frozen tears, Skye asked dreadfully, “K-Kidnapped??” Cedrych gave a nod in assurance. A nod they didn’t want to see… “Precisely. Though I find it unlikely that those responsible would keep him in the Capital, if that helps.” Tierra placed her hand on her dense hips and raised an eyebrow to the head advisor. “How would you know so much?” She asked in an interrogative tone, filled to the brim with suspicion. Her sassy Latina side radiated from her like burning heat from a unquenchable fire. “Because I was once head of the military, Señorita.” Cedrych barked back in retaliation, with a snarky smile across his face. Tierra, knowing that she was defeated, instantly shrunk down and cuddled besides su amor, Tracker. Cedrych then stated, “They’ve been kidnapped by a radical group, the Crimson Scythe, who desire nothing more than the fall of the monarchy, despite the fact that we have a publicly-elected Parliament.” “That makes no sense!” Saracco blurted out. Nicasia drove her elbow into the side of Saracco to shut him up. The Cursinu winced, and closed his mouth hesitantly. The tall, muscular Doberman gave another nod as dark clouds from the coniferous forest began to roll in, with howling winds from the north. “Agreed.” He said. “You might ask, If I’m Steward, am I not eligible to assume the throne? To that, I answer yes, I am. However, as far as we know, the Prince and his sisters are still alive, and therefore we must do everything in our power to bring them back as such.” “Will do, Steward…” Ryder assured him as he shook the Doberman’s hand once more. He turned around as the PAW Patrol rushed back towards the Air Patroller that contained all of their specialized Mission PAW vehicles and equipment. “Alright! Mission PAW is on a roll!” Scene 4: Crimson Scythe Hideout - Coniferous Forest Scene Change: Tracker’s Badge Shadows... Shadows, lies, and deception. The mountainous coniferous trees confided and whispered to the ravenous ears of the Chihuahua, Tracker. The snow-capped giants refused to budge against the chilling blizzard winds. Tierra felt goosebumps crawl along her exposed shapely legs. The linear highlights on their black uniforms glowed like a heartbeat, faintly... Bump bump... Bump bump... '' "''Díos mío, ¡estoy muy nervioso!" ''exclaimed Tracker in a discontent tone. He eyed his surroundings as his nerves racked and chattered. His Majorca Ratter companion rolled her eyes as she grabbed her hips and halted him. Tierra leaned forwards and glared deep into Tracker's terrified soul. "Steel your nerves, ''¡mi amor! ''We need to remain alert!" Tracker shook his head. Deep down in the most remote depths of his pure heart, fear festered and thrived. A few hours flew by like an albatross soaring swiftly above the trees. On occasion, Tracker would launch his zipline cables into the white-crested conifers, scanning the surrounding areas from atop the frozen branches. However those hours ticked with apprehension that permeated itself into the two pups’ sense of intuition. Tierra had travelled ahead to scout the area. She sniffed the air intently, grasping and absorbing every scent of every miniscule detail. She shuddered for a minute moment against the sheer chill of the arctic environment. When she stared ahead, her eyes fixated on a large two-story log cabin… Smoke ascended from the cobblestone chimney. The cabin itself gave off an unnatural vibe, akin to a patch of grass visible beneath mountains of snow. ''“¡Mi amor!” Tierra called behind her as Tracker scurried to her side. “Mira a esa.” Both canines wore perplexed expressions as they gazed upon the unnatural obstruction against the endless blankets of white and the towering conifers. The two canines approached, albeit hesitantly and with a pulsating hammer of apprehension in the back of their heads, the abnormal cabin. Tracker's ears twitched with such defined, precise movements that they would appear indiscernible to eyes untrained to the Chihuahua's idiosyncrasies. "Puedo oír las voces en la casa.... Hablan de un gran plan..." ''The Ratter beside him gasped sharply. She signaled her hand to her partner as she lowered her stance in order to execute a more stealthy approach compared to their previous strategy. Tracker abruptly gripped his love's arm, fearful of what might occur if they barge through that weather-worn door. ''"Pero no los entiendo... Ellos hablan crípticamente. Creo que ellos están utilizando un idioma diferente para comunicarse." '' Tierra's countenance shifted disconcertingly from confident to concerned, as both of them gazed with trepidation on the house. "Why would they be using a different language? Do you think they know that we're here?" "I don't know, ''mi amor." The Ratter was silent for a moment as her heart pounded maliciously in her chest. "Sólo hay una manera de averiguar." ''She shook her head and steeled her nerves. Despite the frigid winds in the encompassing ambiance, Tierra felt a burning sensation radiate through her body. Whether these scintillating sensations were from the apprehension of the mission or from the subtle way that Tracker slid his hand down and laced his fingers with those of Tierra, she could not discern. "Tierra, you're burning." Tracker muttered, the worry in his voice resonating clearer than the icicles that dripped from the cabin's awning. "Are you okay?" She didn't respond. Tracker knew that his partner worked in with some arcane methodology, but their mission is their primary concern. The two pups approached the house, crouching down like thieves in the night underneath a crystal clear window. Tracker peered through the window to observe three menacing, gruff wolfhounds standing over a young canine. His eyes shimmered like diamonds in the rough, and would be worth billions if they were real diamonds. They shone against the light like a flawless mirror, displaying a true image. "That's the Prince." Tracker whispered in a low tone, as if she were afraid that the sheer utterance of any words would shatter the window that they hid under.The Crimson Scythe operative, clad in red and white outfits, appeared nervous, anxious about their current location. The two PAW Patrol pups listened intently to words unknown. ''"Feumaidh sinn gluasad." "Chan urrainn dhuinn feitheamh, ''Andras."'' "Feumaidh sinn fuireach far a bheil sinn, Filomena''. A bheil thu airson a bhith air a ghlacadh?"'' "Chan eil! B 'e am plana am prionnsa a ghoid, gus na h-ùghdarrasan a sheachnadh, agus am prionnsa a ghluasad às an dùthaich. Tha sinn a 'cur às don riaghaltas!" "Is e am plana a bhith a 'feitheamh. Chan eil an ro-innleachd fàgail air ullachadh fhathast. Feumaidh sinn fuireach an seo. Gus am bi an stiùiriche a 'toirt dhuinn am facal, bidh sinn a' feitheamh." "Cha do dh'iarr duine ort, Caradoc!" The arguing continued. Tracker's ears itched in pain as he listened with anguishing incomprehension. These words in an unknown language caused his ears to twitch uncontrollably as his face scrunched in discomfort. One of the Crimson Scythe operatives, the wolfhound Caradoc, discerned the twitching out of his peripherals. "Tha iad an seo." ''He snarled in a vexed fashion under his breath, drawing a club that illuminated with electricity through the shaft, condensing at the payload. "Take the Prince! I'll deal with our guests!" The Wolfhound's coarse, dark, brindle coat stood up on edge. Tierra swore some obscenities in her native tongue as she and Tracker burst into the scented cabin. The aromas of pine and resin filled their nostrils. The scents were reminiscent of Christmas trees during the holiday season. They cleared Tierra's nostrils from the frigid cold before she engaged in combat. ''"¡Está electrificado!" The Chihuahua hollered as the payload of the Wolfhound's club narrowly missed his midsection. Tracker felt a swift jolt rush through his abdomen as it grazed his body. The burly Andras slung the Prince over his shoulder and bolted towards the front door. Tierra attempted a fruitless, yet valiant, interception, only to be interrupted by a gray and white Wolfhound. She drew two shimmering, sharp edges from her boots. The two exchanged snarky glances as their eyes burned with the incentive to put the other in the ground. The pairs dueled in the aromatic cabin, which soon reverberated with the grisly chants of battle and clashing blades. With a scythe in hand, Tierra slashed and hacked with all her might at the nimble Filomena, who effortlessly dodged all her advances as gracefully as a figure skater. Every movement was like the northern winds: immovable and crisp against any opposing force. The wolfhound whirled her heel around, colliding with Tierra's ribs. The ratter shrugged nonchalantly as she advanced once more, this time, busting and bruising her opponent using her Muay Thai training. each strike was swift like a bullet. However, they were forceful like an ancient cannon on the ships of old. Tracker himself was defenseless against a blunt storm of Caradoc, wielding nothing but a glorified machete fit for an overgrown jungle. Regardless, every stalemate flashed the fireworks of sparks and burning bright lights. Caradoc disarmed the Chihuahua, and drove his head into the bridge of his opponent's snout, cracking it. "Mi amor!" ''Tierra shrieked with frustrated consternation before the blunt pommel of the blade bashed her temple. Both pups fell unconscious for a brief, opportunistic moment. By the time they came to, frustrated and screaming with disappointment, the Crimson Scythe had vanished, untraceable like ghosts into the reverent sky. ''Scene 5: Caisteal Deighe Dathach - Wintervale Castle Scene Change: Skye’s Badge "You lost them?!" Chase's veins were pulsating with blood-boiling rage. If he were any angrier, he might have actually started to grow red fur. "How could you lose them?!" The PAW Patrol were gathered in the courtroom of Wintervale's castle. The courtroom, akin to the throne room, adorned drapes of icy blue, white, and black. The flowed gracefully amid the embittering sentiments that flooded through the vicinity like a turbulent river that was freshly thawed. Tierra rolled her eyes in a vexed manner as she embedded her scythe into a flawlessly polished spruce table that reflected the sunlight with glimmering nonchalance. The table and floor both displayed a large hexagonal snowflake, the emblem of Wintervale, blooming outwards from the center of the circular designs. "I want to see you try! These guys are highly trained and heavily armed." Skye shook her head in disbelief. The very aura that she radiated was volatile, frustrated, and slowly draining the hope from her soaring heart. "We have no idea where they took the prince. We have no idea where they have the princesses, and they obviously kept them apart purposely." At the metaphorical head of the table, the young man gently stroked the stubble on his face as if he would spontaneously receive an influx of invaluable intelligence from the great beyond. Ryder sighed as if his mind was devoid of all creativity and inspiration. His voice was empty of all enthusiasm. "We're on the clock. We need to-" Tracker interrupted the speech for a moment, meticulously placing on the table an array of intricate charts, maps marked with red ink, and broken wax seals. "We know where they are taking the Prince. And we have a possible location for the Princesses." “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get at ‘em!” exclaimed an excessively eager Cursinu as he slammed his fist against the polished table. Saracco jerked his head to the side to gaze upon his childhood friend, the steely-blue Centurion, pat his broad shoulder with his widened hand, adorned with elongated fingers. “These are old ruins, see? Which means we can take the catacombs into hall over here-” The eccentric fervor of Saracco was promptly cut short by seemingly the only voice of sensibility and criminal knowledge in the room. One blonde husky, lavishly painted with sun-kissed freckles across her body inquired with conviction, “Don’t you think they would have combed over the catacombs?” “Then what should we do?” Zuma queried with a tone of perturbation. He and Beryl vetted scrupulously around the table, prying for answers that the others were unwilling to give or had the inability to disclose them. Saracco’s mind pounded like the war drums of ancient times. Those Ge-Amhvalesian ritual drums resounded with the force of battering rams against solid, immovable oak. His brain pulsated as if every neuron that fired at unfathomable velocities had the exertion of a vigorous hurricane coupled with the rushing turbulence of a river. “Then we have a diversion… A group of us storms the front and another group sneaks through the catacombs.” “Do diversions like that even work?” Frostbound protested, tilting his head to the side with a perplexed countenance. “They seem cliché, but they do work if they don’t know we’re coming.” The German Shepherd clad in blue and black elucidated with a devilish grin extending on the corners of his maw. The fearless young man who leads the team placed his hands on the exquisite table with an audible clap. He vetted the team, who all beheld him for the courage and support he grants in excess. “Then we’ve got a plan. Let’s move to it!” As the PAW Patrol began to shuffle out of the hall, a Weimaraner-Shepherd caught a glimpse of a tenuous glint from the shadows of the adjacent corridor. Caparisoned sumptuously in that god-woven tailored suit was the Doberman who presided over the throne. His eyes were dark and cunning behind a facade of compassionate aegis. Centurion could unequivocally discern the guise under those piercing orbs that met his own golden eyes. He passed Cedrych, and the two locked eyes in a similar fashion to how a vulture scans its prey. “Was wollen Sie?” growled the Weimaraner-Shepherd. “It’s just a pleasure to watch you all work, is all.” Cedrych replied with a Scottish undertone in his voice. Centurion turned the other cheek and strolled over to his Alaskan Malamute companion. Both of them had tense shoulders, but the causes for their discomfort were imperceptibly different to the mere bystander. “Come on, we can do this, Frosty.” “Cen, I don’t want to fail.” “You gotta get over this fear, my man.” “I am! It’s just easier to manage when we have better chances of success, you know?” “I do.” Centurion kept the piercing orbs in the back of his mind. Scene 6: Ruins of Tùr Chun na h-Adhar - Outskirts of the Capital Scene Change: Frostbound’s Badge The disquieting air was biting and still against the volatility that permeated the ambiance. Its mere motionlessness evoked an unsettling trauma that gripped all the and misfortuned souls who helplessly wandered into its sphere of influence. The ancient, decrepit ruins that were choked by the creeping advance of both vines and the incoming PAW Patrol were as still as the air that surrounded it. The quietness was unnerving. The possibility was unnerving. The unknown was unnerving. Even the most steeled minds could discover that they are unable to resist the instinctive compulsion to shudder against the gnawing chills of the wintry atmosphere. The cunning Cursinu had completed their intricate system of traps and misdirections throughout the main entrance. He buried his tinker-toys in the snow, and only he and the PAW Patrol knew their exact locations. Ryder was on the radio from the Air Patroller, which transmitted the slightest hint of static. The smooth, reassuring filtered down to the pups below. “Everyone ready up. Check, Teams.” “Check.” from Centurion. “Check.” from Beryl. “Check.” from Rocky. “Check.” from Everest. “Check.” from Arabella. “Check.” from Tierra. “Exfiltration team is a go.” affirmed Centurion. “Check.” from Chase. “Check.” from Marshall. “Check.” from Frostbound. “Check.” from Primavera. “Check.” from Skye. “Check.” from Saracco. “Confrontation team is a go.” affirmed Chase. “Check.” from Rubble. “Check.” from Steelbeam. “Check.” from Umbravivo “Check.” from Zuma. “Check.” from Esme. “Check.” from Nicasia. “Check.” from Tracker. “Infiltwation team is a go.” affirmed Zuma. “All teams are green. Let’s get ‘em, Mission PAW.” Within the catacombs, the ancient bones that riddled the walls and crevasses were fragile such that the slightest touch would compel a disintegration into the ripples of time. Each step that they advanced was simultaneous, as if they were connected to a single brain mass that eclipsed even the most sophisticated supercomputers in the world. The stairs induced a crippling sense of vertigo, despite the solid stone that supported the pads of the pups’ feet. “It feels like I’m walking on a tightwope…” muttered Zuma as he briefly misplaced his footing. Upon arrival at the summit of the staircase, the Patterdale Terrier with the x-ray scanner mounted on his arm vetted the surroundings, which was mostly comprised of walls and ancient corridors. “There.” He spat with resolute confidence. “Structure circumvents this archway over here. It seems like it was filled in a long time ago, but was a gate between the catacombs and the actual tower.” Steelbeam removed himself from the immediate path of war and destruction. Its envoy, a lemon-spotted Dalmatian, claimed his birthright. Umbravivo reached for his sash, and removed two prism devices that occasionally glowed and dimmed with a yellow energy. “Wait!” Rubble interjected abruptly, whispering in an aggressive tone. “Won’t that make noise?” “I have suppressed Sono-Prisms. Courtesy of Centurion and Rocky.” The Golden-Pitbull mix painted the wall on the places where the envoy of destruction was going to place his instruments. “But doesn’t ‘sono’ mean ‘Sound?’ Why are they called ‘Sono-Prisms’ if you take away the sound?” “Because it sounds cool.” siad Umbravivo in an upfront, unadulterated tone without the slightest hint of comedy or shift in facial expression. As the wall crumbled after the Dalmatian detonated the prisms that he had just mounted on the ancient wall, a slight shock-wave rippled across the stone carved into wintry symbols. “Besides, Sono-Prisms utilize pressure, not sound waves.” As the infiltration team proceeded into the vacant ruins, the other teams awaited in a vice of consternation. Chase discerned that which was amiss. “Is it just me, or is this place… Dishearteningly empty?” “Yeah, it’s way too-” Frostbound did not receive the opportunity to complete his thought before he was yanked up, torn from his standing position and hurled across the snow-shrouded courtyard like a baseball across the field. “Frostbound?!” exclaimed Everest as her sentiments of anxiety was violently replaced by urgent worry. “Frostbound!!” “Frostbound!” Chase yelled as he charged the gargantuan figure, whose coarse, dark fur deflected the biting frigidity of the environment. The Wolfhound whipped his Herculean arms around, and clasped his palm around the Shepherd’s jaw. Chase viciously wailed on the assailant with his clenched, iron fists before he was thrown against a tree. The snow fell and blanketed him, nearly camouflaging him against the glacial earth. The Wolfhound engaged in a combat that reflected the scale that weighs a heart against a feather. The scale was uneven. The scale crumbled against the weight of the Wolfhound. “Chan fhaigh thu na bana-phrionnsaichean.” He growled a blizzard, his voice summoned the most ferocious arctic winds from the depths of the eternity. “You think we would stay here?” “Honestly, I didn’t peg you guys to turn tail and run!” Saracco taunted the wolfhound. “So, which one are you? Filomena? Andras? Or perhaps Caradoc?” “Ianto…” The Confrontation team was horribly outmatched by the mountainous figure that pummeled them. Skye dive-bombed like an extravagant eagle from the heavens, performed a front flip while propelling herself forward with her supersonic jet pack, and thrust her feet into the Wolfhound’s chest. While he stumbled back, his resolve remained unscathed. As he regained his equilibrium, Skye’s airborne status was terminated. For one instant, she was airborne. The next second, the Wolfhound hammered her into the ground with the downward force of a wrecking ball dropped from the height of a skyscraper. Saracco scanned the area in a panicked, near insane state of mind. He nearly punctured his hands as he sifted through the snow, which chilled his nerves and amplified the already unbearable biting chills. “Caltrops…!” He muttered. He handed off a nearby handful to Marshall, who charged at Ianto with a resounding cry. As the Dalmatian hurled the handful of sharpened jacks at the Wolfhound, the Cursinu unfurled his clandestine plan. He clenched the Wolfhound’s defined calf with a blunt bear trap, whose metal was as chilling as the snow itself. With a crack of a verdant, twisting whip, the Springer Spaniel known as Primavera lashed the Wolfhound’s arm. Frostbound launched himself up as his other two companions forced the Wolfhound into his knees. The Malamute drove his own knee into the Wolfhound’s chin, and he fell against the embankment of uncovered traps, unconscious into the afternoon. “Hell…” Primavera swore. “This is insane. We need to find everyone, right now!” Ryder sighed in dejection. He slammed his fists against the control panel of the Air Patroller. The glint of the flashing lights and buttons persisted in their irregular existence. “Abort, Mission PAW… Get back to the Air Patroller.” Frostbound drove his fist into a tree. He remained unmoved against the pain while the tree bark crystallized into a frigid, flaked structure.“We failed.” Scene 7: Wintervale Port - Outside of Capital Scene Change: Saracco’s Badge The water induced the fury of the ice ages long past. The raging turbulence slammed against the furbished concrete docks of the port, where a dozen Wolfhounds scurried between a derelict warehouse. Four canines sat on the frigid floor. The three young girls shivered in a volatile manner. By the mere sight of their intermittent quivering was reason enough for one to assume that the friction of their floccose fur would cause a thunderstorm. Delyth, Alis, and Saeth whimpered against the towering presence of a tricolored Wolfhound, accompanied by two suntouched, orange Wolfhounds to either side. “Are you comfortable, Prince?” “Rheinhalt, you were my teacher. You taught me to be rational, to see the better side of everything and everyone.” “Yes, Your Majesty… I did. I taught you conviction and to serve the greater good of Ge-Amhvales. And you were a brat who only cared about what you could do as king. If that was where the monarchy was headed, to a selfish child not fit for the throne, then I would not let my country die at the hands of corruption.” “It was your job to teach me right from wrong!” “And you could not be taught! You cannot fill that which is already full. You were filled with this notion that you could do whatever you want. Tha Ge-Amhvales airidh air a 'chuid as fheàrr. Chan urrainn dhut a thoirt seachad.” “Chan eil smachd agad air Ge-Amhvales. Tha mi a 'stiùireadh na dùthcha. Airson a 'chiad uair, chì mi mo dhleastanas gus dèanamh cinnteach gu bheil na daoine sàbhailte! Tha mi na shearbhanta!” “Na shearbhanta? Carson nach do thuig thu mar phàiste?” The Wolfhound stood up from his crouched position and turned to face a Doberman with dark eyes. He stood in a glossy, god-tailored suit with that same red handkerchief in his jacket pocket. “Is the ship ready?” Rheinhalt shook his head. “No, not yet, but it will be soon. And the government will be ours to give back to the people.” Stationed within the turbulence of the water were two hovercrafts, whose inflated rubber sides deflected the floes of ice of the gelid sea. Zuma and Beryl were watching the cargo ship emit its tempestuous bellows of black calamity. “Zuma, I feel sick…” “Seasick?” “No, Zuma… This is our last opportunity to save the Prince and the Princesses. If we fail here, they’re lost forever.” A few lone, shimmering droplets had begun to cascade down the puffy face of the Nova Scotia Duck Toller. She felt a hand grip her own with a loving intent as she gazed towards her companion. The Labrador laced his webbed fingers with those of his beloved. The webbings in their hands were thin, but durable, and one of the greatest feelings that Beryl could experience. “We can do this, Bewyl. I know we can. We have nothing to wowwy about.” “I just hope Centurion’s hunch is right.” Steelbeam commented sarcastically as he drove his royal blue vehicle across the ice. All the PAW Patrol ejected crystalline, frigid dust on a furious road to the docks. Skye soared above, using her hawk-eyed vision to fastidiously scrutinize the docks before the rest of the PAW Patrol arrives. She counted the number of Crimson Scythe operatives at the sight. “Well, I can confirm… Centurion and Tierra had their hunches on the money… That’s Cedrych Aldertree over there, he’s paying the Crimson Scythe!” “He’s the mastermind!” Rubble exclaimed, pounding the control panel of his drill-mounted vehicle. Marshall tilted his head to each side, inducing a popping sound that cascaded along his upper spine. “How many do you see, Skye?” “I see fifteen, and I see the Prince! Visual confirmed!” “Let’s go!” Ryder announced, revving the engines of his purring motorcycle, and charging to the head of the vigilant group. The PAW Patrol decimated the chain link gates to the docks. The Wolfhounds of the Crimson Scythe hastily unveiled their weaponry. The PAW Patrol pups disengaged from their vehicles, launching themselves onto the air, and tumbling across the stoned concrete, and engaged in combat once more. Tierra faced off once more against Filomena. The Ratter armed herself with her unconventional brass knuckles, outfitted with metallic arm bands to protect her forearms. “¿Qué pasa, amiga? ¡Vámonos, chica! ¡Te voy a romper!” She threw punch after punch, even shattering one of Filomena's daggers like a splintered tree struck by the intense heat of lightning. Steelbeam, Rubble, Esme, and Umbravivo rushed towards the warehouse. “Right here!” Steelbeam confirmed after scanning the structure of the warehouse door. The Bulldog with the high-powered drill pierced the ambiance like a hot knife through butter with the high-pitched whirring of his tools. “It's concussion-resistance alloy plated!” He growled in a tone of vexed grievance. “My Sono-prisms won't work!” Umbravivo snarled as he kicked the door with a metallic ring. “No, but thermal charges will.” The rattling of colored spray-paint summoned the three young canine men back to this proverbial plane of reality. Esme giggled in a jocose yet cunning manner to her companions as they scurried to place the thermal charges on the door. “Breach!” Umbravivo announced before the doors were cut clean through with the heat of a thousand suns. The scintillating metal sparked like extravagant fireworks as Rubble burst through the doors with a reinforced sledge hammer. The pups liberated the Prince and his sisters from their shackles of twine, and initiated the escape. The docks had transformed into a battleground of conviction and sheer will. The resounding pulses of energy beams tore through the chilling ambiance as two forces clashed with the strength and resolve of titans basking in the brumal winds of the northern kingdom. Marshall utilized his high-powered water cannon to disorient operatives, giving Saracco a window of opportunity to trap them or trip them up with snares and tripwires. Centurion and Frostbound confronted the twin bodyguards of the Crimson Scythe leader. The twins, Branwen and Brynmor, were nearly identical. Piercing yellow eyes and coats that accentuated their demonic demeanor. Their mask patterns of black and white flared like tempests of white as they kicked and threw punches at the two towering canines. Frostbound simply had to catch one of their limbs and observe the chilling mist emanate from their limbs. Brynmor drove his fist across the maw of the Malamute, ignoring the frostbite that had just gripped his arm. Zuma and Beryl rushed across the glacial waters to the adjacent dock to the roaring steamboat. “Hurry!!” Beryl exclaimed as the princesses boarded her hovercraft. Meriadoc rode with Zuma as they dashed, skimming and leaping across the turbulent waves away from the docks and northwards to the Capital. Ryder faced the dark-eyed Doberman who orchestrated the entirety of the coup d'état. The one factor of espionage who espied from within. A government that crumbles from within cannot rise again, at least not in a form resembling its past likeness. “It's over, Cedrych!” Ryder announced. “Look around! My pups-... My brave, brave friends have taken down your operatives!” Cedrych shook his head as he dueled with his glistening silver rapier, with illustrious, gemstone-encrusted pommel and guard. “You think I fear some American posse of international vigilantes?” He growled against the blizzards, which had shifted in its winds. Around him, operatives fell to the PAW Patrol. “You see? My friends are bloodied, beaten and bruised, but we stand together!” “I was not going to surrender the country that I love to the control of a spoiled hellion with no political savvy and an incentive to impose his will on others! He is an emotional child who allows his heart to take over! He's weak!” Ryder cracked his neck. “Nah. The weak one is you.” All combatants bore testament to the Doberman colliding with the hardened, icy concrete of the docks. Ryder retaliated with one proper hit to the maw. It connected, and the Stewart lost his rank. Scene 8: Caisteal Deighe Dathach - Throne Room Scene Change: Rocky's Badge “Thank you, PAW Patrol. I am forever in your debt. For saving my life, and the lives of my beloved sisters.” The coronation hall was decorated lavishly in drapes of icy blue, white, and black. Turquoise gemstones lined the rows of pews, carved from dark spruce wood. The soon-to-be king slowly took the dreadful steps down the center aisle towards the white marble altar, laced in black and gold veins. There, the priest, shrouded in a white and purple gown, awaited the prince's arrival. Hundreds of canine citizens were about to bear witness to the crowning of a new King. Merry’s heart pounded unnervingly. He was finally ready. Meriadoc turned his head over his shoulder to witness his diverse group of remarkable friends. The priest recited an ancient passage in their language as Meriadoc knelt to the warmth of the carpeted floor. Everest and Rocky laced their scarred and shuddering fingers together, smiling at the new king. Frostbound releases a sigh of relief as Centurion and Ryder reassured him. All was finally well. As the priest recited with a low, resounding voice that boomed liked thunder off walls of solid ice, the entire room rose to their feet, christening the new king with their mere presence. As the passage was completed, the Karakachan Bear Dog rose in a regal fashion. He was not the tallest of canines, but in this resolute moment, he was divine. He was a titan. As he gazes upon the PAW Patrol, the new king cried. He cried joyously, for the first time in his life, as his friends beamed in return. The smile only became wider with the hugs given by his sisters in the forthcoming moment. His sister immediately rushed to embrace him as the audience applauded. Meriadoc swore his life to the people of Ge-Amhvales. The icy blue gemstones on his glacial crown were just a symbol. The real power resided, with resilience, steadfastness, love, and perseverance, in his heart. The power resides in everyone, and accessible to those with the power to accept, to change themselves for the sake of those they love, and to those with the courage to seize their limited days. “Long live the King!”Category:Mission PAW Category:Mission PAW Episodes Category:Episodes Category:Fanon Episodes Category:Stories Category:Fanon Stories Category:Fanon Category:Stories by DJ.RJ.Centurion Category:First Gen Story Category:Episode Category:CenturiRealm Category:CenturiRealm Stories Category:CenturiRealm Episodes Category:Anthro